


finite la comedia

by indefensibleselfindulgence



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, POV Multiple, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-25 00:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16650619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indefensibleselfindulgence/pseuds/indefensibleselfindulgence
Summary: Their last real night on Earth.





	finite la comedia

**Author's Note:**

> hahahaha dont look at how late this is but i finally finished that and there was only one bed thing i talked about like 2 months ago
> 
> not beta'd

The car ride is silent for the most part.  
  
Tense- Tense is a better word, Jon thinks.  
  
The fact that they are literally faced with the end of the world as they know it kind of kills any sort of small talk immediately. Daisy drives, Basira sits next to her with a pair of sunglasses on so for all Jon knows she might have been asleep, and he and Tim are left in the back with the bags.  
  
Daisy doesn't even bother with the radio. Every time they accidentally catch each other's eye through the rearview Jon twists his head to look out the window, and Daisy drops her eyes down to the road.  
  
This is the worst car trip he's ever been in and the other two included kidnapping.  
  
If Martin or Melanie had come along, maybe things would have been different, but as it were, they were left in glum tense silence.  
  
The bed and breakfast is tiny, the owners lived in the building,  there were three other guests already there, and if Jon was given a choice he'd stay in the motel off the main road where he's sure people were murdered on a daily basis. He feels terrible for the owners, momentarily. They probably wanted nicer guests- cute couples who'd review them online after the fact- instead, they're stuck with a serial killer, a monster, a depressive, and an affected archival assistant.  
  
The short-lived guilt is gone when he sees the room he and Tim will be sharing. One bed between them and Jon is left wondering if this was another cruel joke on Elias's end or if this was an honest mistake on Rosie's. Whatever her level of investment is.  
  
They're not moving on the museum until the early hours of the next morning. Better safe than sorry.  
  
Basira tells him to get some rest, to try and get some rest at least, and Daisy just ignores him. Business as usual then.  
  
The next few hours are uneventful- Jon is jittery but when isn't he nowadays, and Tim clutches the ax in his hands.  
  
They don't talk.  
  
One of the owners brings up a tray of food because they missed dinner. Jon's the one who opens the door, but he has a feeling the old woman still saw the ax.  
  
“You should eat.” He says- it comes out raspy, so he clears his throat and tries again. “You should eat.”  
  
“Is that something you still do? Eat?” Tim stares at him. “Cause I would have thought-”  
  
“Yes, I still eat.” He huffs and sets the tray down on the table. “Come on. You need the energy to- what was it you said? Go down swinging?”  
  
Tim leaves the ax on the bed.  
  
Jon considers it progress.  
  
They eat in relative silence- Jon tries to start a conversation, but Tim shoots it down almost immediately. He can live in silence. He's gotten used to it lately anyway. The food is fine- not good, not bad, just fine.  
  
“Would have preferred a better last meal.”  
  
“That's for sure.” Tim watches his face through the meal, and when John returns from returning the tray to the kitchen, Tim's eyes are on his face in an instant.  
  
“Can I help you?” He's never enjoyed hard scrutiny- but then with his boss, he's obviously in the wrong line of work.  
  
“I doubt it.” Tim doesn't even make a show of averting his eyes. “You've never been very helpful.”  
  
“Can you at least put the ax down?”  
  
“Are you feeling particularly menaced, boss?”  
  
Jon debates calling Georgie and ultimately decides against it. No need to make her worry over something that might not even happen, after all. And if the world does end then somehow, Jon's pretty sure, his well being will not be the first of her concerns. Maybe the third, after herself and The Admiral, but still- the point stands.  
  
They're getting closer and closer to the uncomfortable reality of having potentially the last night of their lives, and from where Tim is holding the ax Jon is going to end up spending it on the floor of a dusty bed and breakfast. Or maybe the love seat haphazardly stuck in the corner. His joints hurt at the thought of it already. No, better the floor.  
  
He wonders if Daisy is fairing any better.  
  
“I'll go get a spare blanket.” Tim's face changes to surprise.  
  
“You're going to sleep?”  
  
“I still sleep, Tim.”  
  
“No- Obviously, but are you really going to manage? You know, with the end of the world around the corner?”  
  
“I- I don't know what we're going to have to do once it gets started, how much energy just being there is going to burn and I've never been the best runner, so. Yes. I'm going to try.”  
  
“Huh.”  
  
“What?” Jon's hand is on the door, and he turns to look at his coworker slowly.  
  
“I just thought with the nightmares Martin complains about all the time you've given up on the endeavor.”  
  
“What do Martin's nightmares-”  
  
“Your nightmares.”  
  
“What do my- Why is he talking about- you know what- never mind. Yes, I'm going to try and sleep. Can I go get something to sleep on or do you have more questions?”  
  
“Does the thought of sleeping next to me gross you out that much?”  
  
“You're holding an ax, Tim.” Tim looks down at it as if he's forgotten it was there and looks back up.  
  
“Scared of me, boss?”  
  
Jon swallows nothing and realizes that no, he isn't really scared of him and simultaneously is aware of the fact that his standard of fear has become significantly higher in the recent time frame.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
No reason for him to know that though.  
  
Wax, living and dead and hot and cold, bugs, on every inch of him, doors, locked and opened and-  
  
He should apologize to Helen.  
  
Tim slowly sets the ax down on the nightstand and pats the space next to him on the mattress. Jon, as a man who's gotten very used to doing what people tell him to, sits on the mattress. It's probably not any better than the floor.  
  
“You're the monster, remember? Relax. I'm not going to hurt you.” Tim reassure with all of his casual cruelty.  
  
“Why do you keep staring at me then? Taken up people watching?”  
  
“Funny thought that was your hobby. Or wait- that's stalking, isn't it?”  
  
“You don't even need the ax do you?”  
  
Tim leans back on the headboard and smiles, satisfied for once. Jon honestly can't remember the last time he's seen a smile on Tim's face that didn't look absolutely rabid or patronizing. Jon sits up, a little closer to him and leans on the headboard as well.  
  
It's dark out, and even without the window open the wind can be heard in the room.  
  
“It's all rather ominous, isn't it.”  
  
“Weather certainly isn't agreeable.”  
  
They sit there and stare out the window in silence for what must be an hour. The dark really sets in. The reality of the situation finally sets in that he might not walk away from this. That this might be the last time, he gets to exist in his own skin as himself.  
  
Tim's staring at him again.  
  
“Your skin looks nice,” Tim says. He sounds hopeless again. “It didn't before.”  
  
“Nikola Orsinov was going to wear me first. But she didn't like how bad, uh- dry? I guess my skin was.”  
  
“Jesus.”  
  
“It- Yeah.” Jon swallows. “Can I- before you snap at me- can I ask you something?”  
  
“I'll probably still snap at you.”  
  
“Were you and Sasha dating?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You said you knew her better than Martin and the others-”  
  
“God.” Tim rubs his face. “I hate this.” Jon doesn't know if he should apologize if it'll make any difference at all at this point. “We fucked a few times after work when we got drunk to get over dealing with your bullshit.”  
  
“I'm sorry.”  
  
“Yeah, well. Bit late for sorry, isn't it, Jon?”

  
…

  
“The bed's nice,” Basira says quietly. Daisy nods over her shoulder and drops the duffle bag on the chest of draws in the corner of the room. She's brought along a few guns, just to be safe- well. You always need a way out, if it comes to that.  
  
“I'll sleep on the floor.” She says and zips the bag up. Not loaded yet. That's work for the car. “I don't mind.”  
  
“It's big enough for both of us.” Basira falls back. “Unless you don't want to sleep next to me?”  
  
Daisy's slept next to her before- They've had stakeouts that went for too long, tucked against each other in the front seat of their cruiser, and again at the one and only Christmas party she went to at the precinct where they got wasted together, and Basira slept in her lap- but that was before. Before Basira was a literal prisoner because of Daisy.  
  
Before Elias told Basira rather bluntly that she would die for her.  
  
It's been a bit... tense, evident by their time apart- and sure, she's been busy with all of the murder and Basira has been busy with all of the reading but-  
  
Tense.  
  
“I'm fine on the floor.” She says again, more nervous by the passing minute. She's never nervous. She's above that sort of thing. That's a Jon sort of thing.  
  
Firmly not her area.  
  
“Daisy.” Basira pats the mattress next to her. It's a queen and neither of them are that short, so touching was an inevitability. If it was anything else- just a hunting trip or another stakeout she wouldn't mind. But she doesn't want to ruin the only good thing in her life hours before her life might be over.  
  
“No- you need the room.”  
  
“And you don't?”  
  
“I-”  
  
“Come here.”  
  
It's not like she's going to say no to her.  
  
So Daisy goes.  
  
She sits on the bed and falls back on to the space Basira offered her and stares up at the ceiling. There's a dent, and a weird scatter stain above the bed. She can hear Basira turn on her side and she feels delicate manicured fingers move the hair out of her face.  
  
“Worried?” Daisy asks, hand twisting in her jacket pocket where Basira won't see.  
  
“No more than usual. I've got you don't I? You've got my back?”  
  
“Obviously.”  
  
“So what's to be worried about?”  
  
Daisy closes her eyes and feels somewhat like she's drowning.  
  
“You really trust me that much?”  
  
“I mean, who else have I got, right?” Daisy twists on to her side too, and they really are inches away from each other. Basira's hand curls around, cupping her face and bringing her even closer. “Whatever happens, I've got you.”  
  
“Yeah.” She whispers and closes the gap between them.  
  
Basira's lips are soft.

She tastes like cherries.  
  
Daisy thinks she won't mind dying tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always encouraged and very very very appreciated
> 
> .[ please talk to me](http://iamalivenow.tumblr.com/)
> 
> (the title is really edgy sounding but its from the time when i went to go see a romeo and juliet production in ukraine with my family and when the play was over we were standing in the lobby(?) of the theater and a very drunk dude asked one of the ticketsellers when act 6 was starting and that's what she told him verbatim and i think about that lady a lot anyway)


End file.
